


The Phantom Eye

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Gaslamp Fantasy, Johnlock - Freeform, victorian!lock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-05 08:36:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14040363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After serving as a field surgeon in the Indio War, Dr. John Watson returns to Reichenfell. There, he becomes acquainted with the brilliant astronomer, Professor Sherlock Holmes. The Professor then invites John to join the crew of the Gloria Scott, a dirigible he has chartered with the express purpose of finding a planet long theorized to only be visible during an aurora borealis. Along the way, John and Sherlock narrowly escape cloud bandits, fend off scientists seeking to find the planet first, and encounter the mysterious organization, the Order of Cosmics.





	1. Celestial Musings

John sat by the window watching dirigibles swan across the sky. Wistfully, he imagined all the many days he had spent aboard the  _ Orontes _ , eating limed meat in the mess and playing cards near the cannons. An elegant cruiser slid through the clouds like a giant black goldfish. How he envied its passengers! His shoulder injury twinged and, once again, he twirled the bottle of pain medication through his fingers. Pandora’s box. John regarded the bottle’s murky contents distastefully, wondering if it was worth the risk of addiction to give himself another dose. Already, he could feel the glorious pull of release, the promise of feeling nothing...No. The liquid sloshed as he set the bottle down on the window sill. Probably better not to tempt fate. With a yawn, he got up from his chair and eased himself into bed. 

This was the difficult part. Making his mind blank. Although he missed the closeness and camaraderie of the  _ Orontes _ , he did not miss the gore. Already, he could see Paulson’s leg being blasted open, splinters of bone scattering like pine needles. “Oh God…” The air was thick with fire and flesh. “Oh God…” John squeezed his eyes shut until starbursts popped in his peripheral vision. Where was Paulson now? After that horrific battle over Cannes, they had been separated. He saw Paulson stretched out in his hammock, sketching pictures, rusty curls over his dark eyebrows. John turned on to his other side and stared at a crack in his wall, feeling as though the entire world was pitching in slow motion around him.

In the morning, John was awoken by his neighbor’s door slamming shut. He started indignantly into the hallway to find him, but he was gone. The only thing he had left behind was a tattered magazine. John picked it up. _ Celestial Musings Weekly.  _  Hemming over the peculiar cover, John dressed, washed, and went downstairs to breakfast. He retrieved a bowl of stew and settled into a firelit corner, absentmindedly fishing for carrots while flipping through the pages. 

It was an astronomy magazine, and featured essays on topics ranging from telescope use to planet categorization. John had never considered the big, starry blackness above dirigible air space. He tilted the pamphlet towards the fireplace to better see a map of constellations.The diagrams thrilled him. To see a star up close, just once...in his head, he saw them as enormous spherical click lamps, that turned off and on automatically to follow day and night.

Suddenly, a slip-in flyer caught John’s eye. “MYSTERIES OF THE UNIVERSE”  _ LECTURE by the FAMOUS PROFESSOR SHERLOCK HOLMES at the DOYLE OBSERVATORY.  BRING A SCIENTIFIC IMAGINATION  _ John put his hand out for a cab, and a mech taxi jittered into view. The screen wound back and he pulled himself in with his uninjured shoulder. From up front, a masked, goggled figure looked at him quizzically. 

“The Observatory, please,” John said.


	2. Professor Holmes' and the Phantom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John attends a cosmology lecture and is introduced to the enigmatic Professor Holmes. He also learns about the Phantom Eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Really excited about this idea...I think I've found a way to include Harry Watson...
> 
> \- Huei

The Doyle Observatory was one of the finest places in Reichenfell. Each wall was splashed with opulent murals in pearl, gold, and black, and the telescope room had fine mahogany shelves built into its sides. At the entrance, John balked. He did not belong here. He could feel that already. But the desire to understand more about the curious people who inhabited this palace of science was too strong, and he strode confidently towards the lecture hall. Inside, there were about thirty different scientists, all dressed in an array of interesting garments. John felt plain among them, despite the fact that he was wearing a jacket. 

A stately woman with raven black hair and a high glitter in her eyes approached him. Her suit was made of a maroon silk brocade, and featured a stamped black belt with several pouches hanging from the buckle, making it clear that her expertise was in the field rather than the laboratory.John glimpsed a hint of condescension behind her smile as she gave him a subtle once-over. She extended a hand to him. “Welcome. I’m Irene Adler, the director of Doyle Observatory. Thank you for coming. Have you ever heard of Professor Holmes’ work?” 

“No. I just happened to pick up  _ Musings  _ and noticed the advertisement. It looked interesting. This is open to all Reichenfell citizens, right?” She nodded in a way that suggested the lecture was not, in fact, open to all Reichenfell citizens. “He’s made some very important discoveries recently. Or so he says. It’s nearly impossible to verify any of his theories with observation. That’s what makes them so brilliant.” John noticed once again her tone and her words were radically differt. 

After a few more comments referencing concepts and people John was not familiar with, the hall lights dimmed, and there was a creaking sound as a click light was wound to full capacity over the lectern. Irene disappeared into the darkness and the crowd of well-dressed attendees settled into quiet. A stiff, silver-haired man with a pocket watch dangling from his vest shuffled to the front. 

“Welcome, all of you. My name is Greg Lestrade, and I run the telescope viewings here at the Observatory. Today, you will have the extraordinary privilege of hearing my colleague, Professor Sherlock Holmes, speaking on his most recent cosmological findings. Hopefully, this talk will not only serve as inspiration for your own studies, but introduce to you new and important theories in the field of astronomy.” There was a polite round of applause, and another figure materialized out of the shadows. 

He was gaunt but strong-looking and wore a suit of green tattersall. When he spoke, he commanded the attention of the entire hall, and despite the fact that John was sitting alone, he could feel the audience collectively leaning forward. 

“In everything, we are limited in our thinking by an unseen enemy: human nature. It is impossible for us to truly grasp the nature of the cosmos when we are thus crippled by bone and skin. To really look beyond, therefore, it is necessary to suspend your human disbelief. What I mean to say it...I think I’ve found a new planet.” 

The reaction was instantaneous. There were laughs, murmurs, scoffs. A thrill went down John’s spine. He felt as though the professor was staring straight at him, despite the shroud of darkness.  The lecture continued. Holmes explained that this planet was only visible during the aurora borealis phenomenon, and even then, only with a specialized instrument. An good hour passed in technical descriptions before he revealed his plans for an expedition. 

“Starting one month from now, I will be chartering a dirigible to the North to find this mysterious celestial body and hopefully, retrieve some photographs. When I am standing here again…” he leaned forward, eyes glistening, shoulders taut with intensity, “you will be looking at the Phantom Eye! Thank you.” It was a winning speech, with an even more winning speaker. John found himself so interested in the topic that he stayed long after the lights had come back on, and the others had filed out. He shuffled somewhat bashfully down the long row of velvet seats before approaching the knot of scientists surrounding the professor.

Adler looked incensed. “You can’t give speculative talks like that here. It borders too close to the mystical. The MAA has been cracking down.” John jogged backwards two steps. Maybe it was better not to...Before he could make a hasty retreat, however, the man who had introduced the professor pulled him into the circle. “It’s rare that we see any non-scientists toting our publication. Must have been difficult to find.” John shook his hand. “You can call me Lestrade. And you’ve met Adler already. This is, of course, Professor Holmes.” 

“I just wanted to say that I really liked your speech. It was the most interesting thing I’ve heard in weeks.” The others were momentarily silent, as if taken aback by John’s forwardness. But Holmes was unembarassed. “Warmest thanks. I’ve been preparing for quite some time.” Time stilled; John had the funny sensation of being sucked up and into his eyes, like a raft tossed in a vortex. Their hands drew back, the contact ended, and something like confusion entered the professor’s aura of fierce intelligence. Irene broke the moment. “Did you hear me? They’ll be on our tails if you ever say something like that again. Talking about phantoms. Just imagine. Your close association with the Empire’s darling won’t save you.” Sherlock was obviously not listening. Absentmindedly, he responded, “Let them come. I’ll be in the sky soon.” 


	3. New People, New Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John learns that Holmes has actually sold the flat (!), and receives a fascinating invitation...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being absent! Hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> \- Huei

It was not until two weeks later that John was to learn more about Holmes.

One morning, while dreamily admiring the bows and ballonets that filled the sky, he ran right into a portly man carrying a briefcase. John was startled when the man laughed. “John! John Watson! I thought I would never see you again.” In a flash, John remembered. Mike Stamford. They had trained at the same hospital in their university years. “Oh, Mike. Good to see you again.” They shook hands before pulling off the road into a tavern.

“I’ve been teaching at the university. Chemical stuff. Married, too.” Stamford showed off a tarnished gold band on his fleshy finger. “She’s a fortune-teller. I keep saying, there’s no use in it, ‘specially seeing as the MAOA is cracking down on everyone these days. What about you?” John rapped his knuckles on the table. Married! Stamford, the man who would never stay out past nine on weekdays, Stamford, the man who used to avoid women like the plague. If John was being honest, he was jealous.

“Congratulations. That’s great to hear. I’ve been staying at a pretty shabby little inn. Looking for a flat soon.” Stamford nearly spit out his drink. “A flat, you say? Well, that’s ingenious, that really is.” He gave John a knowing smile. “I have just the place for you, actually.”

Stamford had classes later that day, but the following morning, they set out early. “Where are we going to meet this friend of yours?” The cabin shuddered as they jolted over cobblestones. Their driver, an exhausted-looking teenager, gave the engine a hearty kick and the thing purred back into efficiency. “The Observatory. Thought I told you. Real classy establishment they got up there, lots of friends of the Empire.” John smiled, a weary pain in his chest. What did he have to show, for almost thirty years of life? A few books, a bundle of clothing, some old medical supplies. Items you could easily fit into a single canvas bag. Riding in the taxi with Stamford, in the heart of smoggy, chugging Reichenfell, John realized that he was no one.

They arrived at the Observatory. Once again, John was awed by the grand entrance, and the regal interior Stepping through the magnificently heavy double doors, he felt that he was standing on the edge of the future. Of progress. Stamford, apparently somewhat familiar with the place, led John down a series of intersecting corridors, each lined with fantastical portraits of long-dead adventuresses and imperiously apathetic benefactors. At last, they crossed into a large working floor, with several desks pushed into a haphazard star formation. Diagrams and charts wallpapered the space and from the ceiling hung marble models of lesser known moons. “Ah! There he is,” Stamford said.

He was situated at a table alone, ignoring the other scientists. The barren cardboard stub in his cigarette holder routinely flared as he inhaled. After a few moments, he paused, flexed a pantograph over his papers, and began sketching once more. John had never seen someone so absorbed by their work. Around him seemed to exist a bubble of impenetrable quietude.

“Holmes, you workhorse.” Stamford clapped the professor on the back. “Stamford,” he said, taking the mouthpiece from his lips, “All’s well, I hope.” Stamford did not respond, instead propelling John forward. “Oh? Is this to be my roommate?” He set down his instruments. “You’re an Indio veteran. Fascinating.” Abruptly, he broke into warm smile, an expression John would later learn was fairly rare. “You liked my lecture, I remember. I’m afraid the response at the Observatory was less kind.” They shook hands cordially. “I did. I’m John Watson, by the way. Did Stamford--” But Holmes was packing up his things and pulling on a coat. “We can meet tomorrow, if you like. Shall we say...around seven? It’s a neat place. Temporary, you know, given that I’ll be travelling shortly, but neat nonetheless.” He strode across the office and was about to disappear before John called to him, “Sorry, where are meeting?”

The place, it turned out, was a number: 221.  John rose early, shoved what little he had into a large throw bag, and paid his bill to the innkeeper. It was freeing to be out of the place, and he felt more fully himself than he had in a long time.

Baker Hangar was a massive structure that crouched just outside the busiest part of Reichenfell. John scanned a tattered map pinned to an information board. A wave of doubts crashed over him as he walked across the lots. How was it possible that Holmes lived in a hangar? What if the neighbors were irritating? Was he expected to assist with matters of house, or should he wait to learn Holmes’ preferences? At last, he arrived at lot 221.

Residing there was the gondola of a great dirigible, its royal blue double-ballonet bound and fastened, like the mast of a ship. The gondola itself had at least three decks, and appeared suitably prepared for long distance travel. Baggage, books, and mech were strewn everywhere, as though an engineering library had exploded on the lot. John picked his way over to the gondola and walked up a long plank. Holmes greeted him as soon as he stepped off the ramp.

“Come to my office,” he said, as John ducked a swinging navigation board being lifted onto the second deck, “it’s safer there.” They cut through the bustle and arrived at a study with a high-ceiling. It was designed more or less like the workspace at the Observatory, though the walls were dark blue rather than pale green, and studded with silver points to indicate stars. “I’m sure you’re wondering where the flat is. Stamford, I’m sure, assumed that I would meet you here and take you to my flat. But the truth is…” Holmes brushed something microscopic off his jacket pocket. “I sold it. I needed the money to buy the Gloria Scott.” He gestured uselessly to the ship. Through the study’s walls, John could hear the muffled sounds of hammering and sawing. They sounded so distant. In fact, he could barely hear his own voice when he said, “So...what am I to do?”  

The corner of Holmes’ mouth tacked upwards, the spare beginnings of a mischievous smile. “ To be quite frank, this was the plan all along. As soon as Stamford brought you in, I gamboled that you would want to come along, and sold the flat.”

“You had no right to mislead me like that. But, lucky for you,” and already, he saw the telltale smugness in Holmes’ eyes, “I’m an agreeable man.” He smiled, trying to show that he was happy, and not angry. And, inexplicably, that was how John really felt. Holmes responded with a triumphant smile of his own. It was a heady, intoxicating feeling, being observed so closely by Holmes’ hawk-like eyes, but it was even more overpowering given that they were currently friendly.

John had to break it.

“So where’s my bunk?”


End file.
